Midori Days
by Divock
Summary: A story made to characterize an OC made to be an anti-waifu, an exercise in making an unlikable character likable.


The center of the stage glistened with its refurbishing, reflecting right onto Midori's face. Once she caught a clear glimpse of herself, she put on a flashy grin. Analyzing her smile, she quickly faded back into a scowl. "No. It's gotta be beaming." She adjusted her smile, baring her pronounced canines even further, almost instinctively snarling upon sight. "Ugh, that'll never work." She lifted her lips to inspect her gums, though let them flop almost immediately afterward. She shook her head, rustling her white hair, trying to get the green streak to line up in the center of her 'eye'. Her glasses fell out of place, and she lifted the glasses to affix them, and repeated this several times, trying to allow for a sliver of perspective for her scarlet eye to emanate from indirectly, something she'd spent half an hour earlier obsessing over. "Aaaaagh!"

The outburst echoed and resounded throughout backstage. She pushed her glasses firmly back in, shaking her head again, though this time in irritation. _You only get one chance to make a first impression._ She thought. It was a saying she got from her father, and given his meticulous devotion to the military, it was something he parroted constantly. Midori sighed. _Yeah dad, I get it._ She stood up and brushed the metaphorical dust from her tangerine skirt. _I can't skip the small details._ She went through the rest of her mental checklist, bending down and inspecting her black goth boots, rubbing some dirt off of a stud on the top buckle, or rather, pretending she was. It wasn't clear whether it was dirt or just the distorted reflection of the room around her. She grabbed the end of her trench-coat from the bottom and flapped it to allow it to flow freely, caressing the white outline to keep it from getting too wrinkled. The remainder of the sleeveless trench-coat, a shiny black, slumped from her shoulders, letting her gauze-covered prosthetics hang less encumbered by her tight blue hoodie. She closed her eyes, and stood in a relaxed, yet formal pose. _When you walk into the room, all eyes are on you. Yeah._

The lights shone above her, briefly blinding her remaining eye and forcing her replaced eye to come out of stasis. Though covered by neon hair and opaque lenses, it was able to see perfectly through the beam. On the other side of the room, right next to the back row, she saw General James Ironwood, in his usual formal stance with hands behind his back. He marched on his way to the stage where Midori stood, as the spotlights' initial brightness began to wane slightly. Still, she kept her hand covering her closed eye, as a precaution. "An early bird? Not what I expected on the first day." he chuckled, looking up at her. Midori smiled proudly, her goals validated. "What brings you here...Midori, was it?"

"Y-Yessir!" Midori bowed, "I wanted to...I wanted to..." she coughed into her hand and cleared her throat. "I wanted to make sure I was accustomed to the surroundings before initiation."

"Whatever for?" he inquired.

"I...well..." Midori internally panicked, the more she revealed about herself the less interesting she was, or so she thought. She couldn't blab about everything. But how much did he already know? Her first name, yes, but her last name, Gealfang? By proxy, her father? Did Ironwood even recognize her father? She never got that sort of feeling from her father's conversations, but she didn't know how much her father blabbed to Ironwood. Did they know her semblance? Her physical skills? Her weapon skills? Her weapon itself? Her strengths? Her weaknesses? Her aura? Her medical history? Her mental history? Her face began to shake during her circular rumination until Ironwood interrupted her, "Never mind. It's not important. I need you to leave though. We need to prepare this room for the other students."

"Oh...I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize. Just go. The sooner we get it ready the sooner we can calm everyone's nerves." he smiled before walking heading towards backstage, leaving her to the exit.

"S-sir!" she saluted, before starting into an uncomfortable run toward the opposite door.

She stood by the entrance for about fifteen minutes before another student joined her, having been inspecting the first of her twinblades, Mortu, during the intervening time. Midori rubbed the edge, giving the metal a quick tap. Clink. She lowered her ear to the blade to hear it a second time, and flicked it. Clink. Midori growled, rubbing her arm against it to remove a nonexistent speck of dirt.

"Hey there!"

Midori flinched, and lifted her head, slowly meeting the other's eyes. They gleamed a bubblegum pink, and were notably way too close for comfort. "Waaah!" Midori collapsed backwards into the wall, her twinblade falling on top of her. She clamped her hands on the blade, lifting it to get a better view of her cohort. Pink eyes shone with excitement in front, with a wide grin below. "Whoa, careful there!" she giggled. "Need a hand?" She reached out towards Midori with a delicate looking hand. Midori clasped the shaft of the blade with one hand and graciously accepted the help of her peer. "Th-thanks." Midori's heart began to beat faster as she took the hand. Upon grasping, the girl flinched slightly, almost recoiling, no doubt surprised by the sharpness of the prosthetic claws. "S-sorry!" Midori frantically readjusted her grip.

Her mind began to race as she stood back up, head down all the way, _Shit...SHIT...I don't know her...but I'll need to...How do I respond? What do I say?_ Screaming rebounded about her thought process until the girl broke the silence again. "Uh, Hi! So I'm Chicle! I didn't expect to see someone here this early." She kept her smile perky throughout. Midori let go of her hand and strapped her weapon back underneath her trenchcoat. "Uh...hi…" she coughed. "I'm M-midori." She awkwardly stuck her hand out again to grab Chicle's. The handshake was mostly driven by Chicle, while Midori's eyes remained glued to the floor. She smiled half-heartedly, looking up as soon as their hands parted. The girl's light blue hair spread into short pigtails. Midori made quick to adjust her own hair to make sure her cyber-eye remained out of sight. "Ooh…" Chicle looked up; it just now occurred to Midori how short she was, even considering her own above average height, this girl must have been barely 5 feet if even that. Chicle examined her hands, some slight redness on outside of the palm, then looked back at Midori. "Those are quite the grip, ha ha!" she laughed, shaking whatever slight pain away. "Didn't mean to startle you!"

"Oh no, don't! It's fine! Don't...don't worry about it! I wasn't uh, I wasn't doing anything important anyway."

"Don't say that, your weapon is important! It's good to keep an eye on it!" Chicle pat Midori on the shoulder. The sudden physical affection caused a shudder in Midori, and she held her hand to her mouth. Nausea began to build in her stomach and her throat. "Um...yeah...uh…" She wavered a bit, grabbing the wall behind her for support, almost buckling at the knees.

"So, what school did you graduate from? I came from Precipice."

"I came from...Sum...Summi-" Midori struggled to get the words out as bile formed. Her anxiety rose even further, and each word became more of a struggle. _Summit! Just say it! Summit!_ "S-Sum, summi-" the acids caused her words to falter and lose form.

"Summit?" Chicle cocked her head to the side. "You okay?"

Midori nodded, before clutching her hand to her mouth, shoving Chicle out of the way and sprinting to the nearby restroom.

Midori spat into the sink and pressed both palms flat against the counter, breathing heavily as she regained her composure. She slowly lifted her head to face herself, A small cluster of sweat beads formed on her forehead before she tried to wipe it off with her arm. She slowed her breathing, closing her eyes before glancing at the sweat-soaked gauze. It began to unravel slightly, and Midori tugged at it. Though one tug would get some of it tightened, simultaneously it would loosen another edge. Her clawed prosthetics did her no favors in trying to gently adjust it, as threads began to rip from the medical fabric bit by bit. She groaned to herself, and yanked her arm back, then crossed her arms together, clutching at the elbows. Her eyes swiveled to the door, footsteps could be heard in progressively frequent clusters, conversation bubbling ever so slowly. Her pseudo-claws gripped tighter. Another groan. The voices outside started to grow in volume. Then a sigh. Two smooth, deep breaths. It was practically a crowd. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she left the bathroom.

It felt as if multiple eyes shot to her the second she opened the door, though in reality they lingered only a brief second. She quickly closed the door behind her and shimmied into the small crowd. Conversation wafted in peaks and valleys, each just as insurmountable and intimidating. Several times she pictured herself standing straight, tapping someone on the shoulder, and extending her hand confidently in friendship. However during each attempt her body violently rejected the notion, resulting only in muscle spasms or twitches. Doubt began to seep into her mind through the cracks formed by these rejections of confidence.

"Attention students!" though luckily for her, a commanding voice was able to shake her paradigm enough to dispel the worries, "Thank you for your patience, we will commence initiation shortly. Please take a seat and await further instruction." Ironwood's instruction lead the students to pile into the now unlocked amphitheater doors.

All of the first-years made up a good third of the amphitheater, many students already had formed minor cliques since their first day. Those who hadn't sat quietly a few seats apart from the clusters, luckily Midori found herself able to do the same. She tried to sit down and found herself abruptly halted by her back. Sighing, she stood back up and removed her two twinblades, Mortu and Boshi, and looked to set them on the seat to the right of her. Before she could however, a girl was already relaxed into the seat. "Ah, that'll work." she sighed to herself. Midori took a quick glance to her left, noticing only a two seat difference between her and another person, and then back to the right, where only one seat remained unoccupied by the aisle. Her teeth clenched. "nnnngh." she mumbled, setting her two twinblades to the left and sitting down quickly, shrinking into her hoodie. "Oh hey!" Chicle tapped on Midori's shoulder, grinning eagerly as they awaited the keynote. Midori's neck craned with an awkward smile, "Heyyy..." Eyes glanced to the podium, then back, "Chicle...right?"

"Yup." Her grin relaxed, "And you're Midori."

"Yes." Midori closed her eyes and began to take slow breaths.

"Are you, were you, um," Chicle strained to avoid making a rude expression, though regardless it remained unseen. "Feeling,"

A loud exhale.

"Right. Okay then." Chicle rapped her fingers together, then against the seat arms. "Yes. Ok." The various chatter around them continued. "I'm nervous too."

Midori opened her eyes.

"I don't really know anyone else here.."

"Oh..." Midori blinked, looking down.

"Yeah." she sighed. "It's hard adjusting to a new school."

"I don't really know anyone else here either." Midori looked back up. "I think there are some people who graduated with me, but I don't know them...what about you?"

Chicle perked back up quickly, "My old classmates went to different schools, mostly Beacon or Haven. In fact, my best friend, heh, she was a shoe-in for Atlas with me. But then, well, her family had other plans. Now she's at Shade."

"I'm sorry..." Midori mumbled.

"No! No, it's fine." Chicle began to giggle, "It's not a big deal. I-"

Microphone feedback interrupted Chicle, and she halted before briefly saying, "Don'tworryaboutit" and sitting up straight in her seat. Midori took the cue and did the same, eyes on the podium. Ironwood finished adjusting the microphone and leaned forward, arms behind his back, "Good morning students, today you all take the next step in becoming hunters and huntresses. Today you all take the next step in honing your mind, body, and soul. Today you all forget about your previous standards, and set them higher than ever before. Today, you all begin your lives as adults."

All of the students remained silent.

"Outside is an airship that will take you all to our beginner's bootcamp. There you will learn the fundamentals that you will carry with you throughout your career here, and for the rest of your life. I wish you all the best of luck."

Ironwood stepped away from the podium and left, leaving the students behind to simmer in their own apprehension.


End file.
